Progress and Beyond
by needsmoreicing
Summary: But it doesn't burn anymore, as she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, her hair in a ponytail, and numbly pushes the plunger with shaky fingers. It doesn't burn anymore, until she sees him standing in the doorway. "Don't judge me." WARNING: TW FOR BULIMIA AND ANOREXIA


A/N: Everyone has been going crazy over the trailer for _Delicious_ and I wanted to challenge myself to write something a kin to the movie. I'll admit that this was a bit hard for me to write but I think the product came out better than I thought. This was a prompt from SamXMolly on Tumblr, and I have to admit that I'm kind of digging this pair. I took what I posted from tumblr and embellished and cleaned from there.

**WARNING: TW's for ANOREXIA and BULIMIA**

* * *

Molly doesn't remember exactly when it started, her sickness, but it used to come with the stress of her day. But now she only feels relief, it's like everything can just be purged away. Taking all the nasty and imperfect things of her body and heaving them away.

And for a long time, she's okay with that.

It's the whispers that make her hide into her clothes, swallowing her whole. Some nights she'll stand bare before her mirror and just hold herself, silently pleading with herself to just be perfect. If she was just a few pounds thinner, then maybe they'd accept her. Molly lays on her bed, clutching her growling stomach, telling herself that it's just complaining because it's already too full. Because they'll accept her if she's just a few pounds thinner, a few pounds less of who she was before.

They do not.

But medical school happens, whispers come back, and Molly Hooper just decides not to eat anymore because she knows that it would never stay anyway. There is a brief time where she is fine, happy even.

_"Domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've gained three pounds since I saw you last."_

She insists on two and a half, her ugly, stupid body trembling. He shrugs and repeats the number three.

Molly does not eat lunch, does not dinner, and does not eat breakfast and nearly is sick at the taste of coffee.

She wonders if she could find herself in the mirror anymore, and she knows that she wouldn't.

Then Sam Winchester happens.

Lovely Sam, who cradles her during movies, adores her morbid jokes because his are too, if not more so, and doesn't mind the fact that sometimes she gets excited about an autopsy.

She thinks that Sam doesn't notice, because he's too busy eating enough for both of them. But she is wrong. So wrong.

Because Sam notices everything, every little tiny thing about Molly, and sometimes it frightens her.

But it doesn't burn anymore, as she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, her hair in a ponytail, and numbly pushes the plunger with shaky fingers. It doesn't burn anymore, until she sees him standing in the doorway.

_"Don't judge me."_

And he doesn't. Sam doesn't utter a word as he gathers the frail woman into his arms. He kisses her head, and rocks gently back and forth as she weeps into his plaid shirt.

They go to support groups together, he never makes her go and it was her idea. She hates the idea of disappointing him, and when she tells him that he only tells her that that could never happen. That she was already one of the best people in his life. He says it with a smile on his face, and Molly just wants it to stay there forever.

She tries not to hate herself as the pounds come on, and she has to admit that her clothes are fitting better. But she still wishes that she could just hide that away. Hide her shame away. It is a constant battle and there are days where she loses. Sam does not judge her.

But as the pounds come back, so does her love of food. She doesn't even feel mildly embarrassed about wiping hot-wing sauce off of her face when Sam hands her a paper towel with a large grin on his face.

In the dark of the night, with his arm around her, Molly tells him that she's glad he fixed her.

He kisses the side of her face and tells her she's wrong. That she fixed herself, and that she really didn't need him at all.

Molly doesn't know what to say, so she says nothing at all. But she thinks about it, during her hours in the morgue, while making them dinner and she comes to the startling conclusion that Sam was right.

She didn't really need him to be better, but he'd certainly put things in perspective. With that in mind, Molly holds herself a little higher, more proud of who she is and who she was.

When Sherlock says that she's put on weight, she smiles and nods, because she's proud of it and she's proud of herself.

When Sam grips her waist in the heat of a kiss, it doesn't feel like her bone is directly in his hand. Making love just feels better and she wonders why she didn't stop years ago.

The second time Molly cries, she cries for the girl she used to be. So afraid and terrified of loving herself. Again Sam holds her, kisses her head, and says nothing. But he hums, low and slow, as he rocks them back and forth. And she would swear that she's never felt more beautiful.

The next time she's leaning over a toilet, it's morning sickness. And when they find out that they're having a little girl, Molly is equal parts thrilled and terrified. Because what if she can't be a strong mother for her baby. She's sick again, and this time it is not morning sickness.

As her stomach balloons, she can feel her doubt creep in. Sam is protective and reverent of her, and she feels cherished. But she knows that she still has to fix more of herself yet. Molly has to fight herself, has to stop whispering evil things into her own ear as her pants get bigger. She is not ugly, Molly insists to herself. Because Molly knows the growing human body, she's studied it. _But inches do not lie,_ the evil tells her, _he cannot possibly love you._

Sam kisses her hard when she trembles and tells him her fears. She never doubts his love again, though she still doubts herself.

Molly hates when he insists on getting pictures done, fearing what she'll look like. Her living hell. But when she views the photos, she doesn't see herself, she sees a beautiful woman in the arms of the man who loves her. She looks beautiful and confident, not at all unsure of herself. And it startles Molly that she can consider herself beautiful. She smiles the entire way home, gently running her hand over stomach.

Days roll into weeks, weeks collide into months, and finally the time is here. Hours later, she's holding a red faced baby girl in her arms. Sam is crying, stroking the shock of curly brown hair on top of baby Gaea's head. Gaea, Earth in Greek, because she's their world. Checking her tiny fingers and toes, Molly vows to pour love into her baby until she's overflowing. Strong for her daughter that will look up to her. Unwavering for her family that ties her together and gives her strength.

At long last, Molly stops completely. And Sam holds her as she cries out of joy when she realizes that she no longer feels the urge to be cleansed from the inside out. He smiles as she laughs, kisses her as eagerly as she kisses him, and Gaea babbles happily next to them.

Molly can't remember when she started to feel whole without being empty. But she can't bring herself to care about the specifics, not when she has so much more than she's ever had before.


End file.
